Knuckles Drinks A Pepsi
by TheKnucklesChaotix1
Summary: Knuckles drinks a Pepsi


Knuckles walked into a 7Eleven half a block down the street from the Master Emerald shrine. A bell near the door rang as he entered the quaint business establishment that sells goods. The red pimple greeted the store clerk with a slight nod. The store clerk flipped Knuckles off in response. Already turned on, Knuckles proceeded into the store. He perused the aisles aimlessly, examining various snacks and cheap appliances.

He approached the Cheeto shelf in the back of the store next to the Dorito section and picked up a bag of special edition Flamin' Hot Cheetos in which Tony the Tiger was replaced with Aaron Rodgers of the Green Bay Packers on the front. He turned the bag over to the back and examined the nutrition facts. Knuckles was trying to watch his weight because Shadow had been tormenting him for months about his figure, despite the fact that nobody else noticed any change at all. It made Knuckles feel self conscious though, because Knuckles is gullible and Shadow is a dick.

"Hmm," Knuckles grunted, studying the nutrition facts of the Cheetos.

His seeing organs widened. "Eleven grams of fat? No thank you!"

He tossed the Cheetos back onto the shelf without a backwards glance. Aaron Rodgers' lumpy, droopy eyed face stared sorrowfully at the bottom of the shelf above the bag with his uncomfortably wide, toothy grin as the Echidna walked away from him, just like everyone else had. He would have felt melancholy if it were not for the fact that he was a picture of some random Football player's face on a bag of Cheetos in a 7Eleven half a block down the street from the Master Emerald shrine.

Knuckles shuffled over to the soda aisle next. His mouth watered at the thought of the sugary elixir entering his soft, shitty body like a slimy anchovy entering a coral reef off the coast of Australia. The sad little man approached the first heat-reducing food preserver and peered at it's contents through a pane of cold glass. His violet eyes danced around looking at all the canned drinks before him. His optical organs of an animate being finally came to rest on a plastic bottle of Pepsi in the top right hand corner immediately adjacent to the Mountain Dew: Code Red, which Knuckles also found enticing and titillating. Not nearly as titillating, however, as the Pepsi that he had since picked off the shelf with his unnecessarily huge, fingerless hands. He gazed at the Pepsi, not even bothering to check the nutrition facts. He already knew what he wanted, and Shadows taunts could do nothing to stop him. The heat was siphoned out of his hands by the cold liquid through the thin treated, manufactured refined petroleum compound like how the Pepsi was about to be siphoned out of the bottle spigot and into his ingestion receptacle. He felt the cool condensation from the liquid container moisten his white hand covering and he could already taste the sting of the carbonation passing through his esophagus on it's way his stomach before his body extracted what little nutrients it provided and passed the liquid out through his four urethras. Knuckles loved to think about the greater picture regarding digestion and excretion before he consumed anything because he felt that it gave him a better appreciation of what it is that he is about to ingest.

He approached the cashier behind the long, flat-topped fixture across which business was conducted with consumers in this 7Eleven as well as every single other store.

"Hello," Knuckles told the cashier, who flipped him off. "I would like to purchase this container made of a manufactured refined petroleum compound filled with Pepsi."

"Oh!" the cashier exclaimed unnaturally loudly. "You should have just told me you were here to purchase soda. My initial assumption when you moved at a regular and fairly slow pace by lifting and setting down each foot in turn, never having both feet off the ground at once into this retail establishment selling goods and services to the public was that you were here to make remarks in order to taunt me regarding how you hooked up with my recently divorced ex-wife just to push me deeper into a depressive state before urinating on the front part of my head spanning from my forehead to my chin with your urine hose while chanting the lyrics to the Canadian national anthem and expelling air through your pursed lips, or lack thereof, into balloons and doing that thing where you pinch the receptacle at the bottom and pull it apart while the air comes out so it makes a loud, shrill screeching noise!"

"I'll admit that the idea popped into my head," Knuckles replied, grinning. "But I realized that you don't sell balloons here, so the entire plan fell apart in that moment."

The cashier grinned like Aaron Rodgers' face on a bag of special edition Flamin' Hot Cheetos and gave Knuckles a thumbs up. "Boy howdy, I sure am glad that we don't sell balloons in this store!"

Knuckles and the cashier shared a brief chortle.

"That'll be $1.25," the cashier communicated via spoken words. Knuckles forked over the dough. The cashier said thank you and told Knuckles to have a nice day. Knuckles replied that he has not has a nice day in years. The cashier cheerfully told him how much lord hard dick that blew and how many shits he really did not give about.

Outside the retail establishment selling goods and services to the public, Knuckles cracked the manufactured refined petroleum compound binding that ensured the protective lid stayed secured in order to ensure that the carbonation infused with the sugary potion stayed compressed. When this binding was cracked, the pressure within the bottle was reduced and the carbon dioxide was released from the solution as small bubbles which caused the solution to become fizzy. The swift release of gas sounded in that moment due to the depressurization of gas. Knuckles wafted the sweet aroma of the sugary liquid into his smelling organ common to animate beings and found himself more excited than ever to consume the beverage. The soft sound of globules of carbon dioxide popping reached out to Knuckles' nearly nonexistent auditory organs primarily found in animate beings like tendrils of baby kittens meowing bombarding him like he was a heavy-traffic Twitter account. He felt so pleased with the situation in which he found himself in.

Not wishing to hesitate any longer with the ingestion of the sweet liquid, Knuckles lowered his eyelids over his optical organs of an animate being and raised the processed petroleum spigot to the opening in the lower part of his area of the head between the forehead and chin, surrounded by the lips which he did not have, through which food and beverages are taken in and from which speech and other sounds are emitted. His taste buds braced for impact as the soda cascaded into his mouth out of nozzle. It struck his fleshy muscular organ in the mouth of a mammal, used for tasting, licking, swallowing, and articulating speech, and his taste buds spiralled out of control. He felt as though he had been transported to a world of sugary goodness, in which the rocks were magical Emeralds and the water was Pepsi, and there was not anything else at all. As he allowed the liquid to pass down his throat, he took in a breath and prepared himself for another sip. He was unsure if he was mentally or physically prepared for another act of intaking soda through his mouth, passing it through his esophagus and into his stomach, where the nutrients were absorbed by his soft, shitty body before it was urinated out through his four urethras. Regardless, he took it all in. The soda flowed through him like a river of vanilla frosting with a high calorie count. More and more came in, akin to a large natural stream of water flowing in a channel to the sea, a lake, or another such stream. It truly was, for lack of a better description, a mouth orgasm. Which is to say, an orgasm of the mouth.

After sucking the last drop through the spigot, Knuckles tossed the bottle in a recycling receptacle for sorting a specified substance, that substance being plastic containers and paper.

He stood there for a few moments, gazing upon the bottle now resting in the receptacle before him. He let out a sigh.

"Well, that was underwhelming," he sighed. Knuckles walked away.


End file.
